door_in_the_woodsfandomcom-20200213-history
Note
This page will be super spoiler heavy so turn back! This page will be super spoiler heavy so turn back! This page will be super spoiler heavy so turn back! This page will be super spoiler heavy so turn back! Door in the Woods Door in the Woods has 8 different scenario variations. Each label is it's own note text, and the order is the order you will find them. Magic "I've only just arrived here, and already I can tell that something is wrong. A pallor hangs over everything, yet no one acknowledges it. Like everyone in this damned world, they go about their lives in ignorance. I am the only one left to seek out the truth. I'm forced to pry the intel out of them, fight for what little they offer me, each piece is vital. Animals going mad, dead loved ones, seen out of the corner of your eye, even the cremated. I know that I'm close to what I'm looking for. There has to be a magical force fueling these manifestations." Cult "My suspicions have been confirmed. Is it strange to say that I am excited? Nowhere before has the stench of the supernatural been so thick. It is a charge in the air, like static before the storm. My heart is racing. I can barely hold the pen still, and as the ink grows solid beneath it, the air turns fluid around me. This town is doomed. That fact is clear, and I gain nothing from obfuscating it. After all, I am not here to save this place. What could the efforts of one person do? I must focus on my own survival, and take what I've found out into the world. I've discovered some in this town are celebrating reality's slow decay. There are cheery smiles, beneath hollow eyes. Lights in houses in the dead of night, laughter mixed with screaming. Glasses raised to lips, with wine too red. Why would these people ally with the architects of their destruction?" Demons "There is a Hell, and I have glimpsed it. The poor fools thought they could make deals with its denizens. I infiltrated one of their 'Hellfire Parties', as they called them. 'They come to devour all the evil in the world,' One of the elderly men I spoke to said. We have spent our entire lives preparing for this. WE are pure! WE will be spared! And they laughed. They all laughed, and I watched as their mouths opened wide, distended. They all inhaled in unison. They breathed in the world, and left it less than it was. Left it more like hell. At the back of their throats, I could see their true faces, screaming. They were pure, One of the demons said, gnashing its teeth over the soul it had swallowed. And they were spared from what is to come. I ran from the house. I ran from the town. But no matter where I went, there was always the laughing." Eldritch "The sounds of celebration silence one day, and I already know that it's too late. I follow trails of misshapen flesh, and bodies with every orifice sewn closed, and find the well-hidden cellar where this began. Someone's mouth sat on the ground, and spoke to me in a deep, sourceless voice. They were a cult of hedonism, at first. They imagined themselves refined, but at the same time debased themselves further, with secret atrocities. Sacrifices, imprisonments, forcible alterations to the body, in the name of making living works of art. They caught the attention of something greater. A kindred spirit. The Weaver-of-Flesh. With their faith, they brought it into this world, and as thanks, it made them into art. And it will not be content with them. Not with this town. It is a vain god, and it will not rest until this world is a gallery. When it is satisfied, it will leave, with the way open for its siblings to pass through, to look upon its works. And to sample them. Such hubris, to think our lives were anything but a prelude to predation." Primal Force "My suspicions have been confirmed. Is it strange to say that I am excited? Nowhere before has the stench of the supernatural been so thick. It is a charge in the air, like static before the storm. My heart is racing. I can barely hold the pen still, and as the ink grows solid beneath it, the air turns fluid around me. This town is doomed. That fact is clear, and I gain nothing from obfuscating it. After all, I am not here to save this place. What could the efforts of one person do? I must focus on my own survival, and take what I've found out into the world. I've discovered some underlying logic to these happenings, as if unknowable currents flow beneath the fabric of reality. They pour from somewhere beyond earth, spreading ripples of impossibility. Yet, these are not simply natural forces. There is intention behind them. Perhaps intelligence." Darkness "There are things swimming in the shadows. The darkness is getting deeper and deeper by the second, as impenetrable as the deep sea. When I came here, I thought it was strange that the days were nearly as dim and cold as the nights. I saw the shadows deepen, and I sought answers. I found a man, alone in his hut in the woods. He was surrounded by candles, but only the one in front of him lit. Each time it burned low, he produced another, and so on. His shadow reached the ceiling, and from it, I could see the pulsing corruption that has been washing through the town. I saw an opportunity. I am not proud of what I did. I sit in the hut now, alone. I listen to the screams from the distant town suddenly change in pitch and stop, as if people were being violently pulled to some place, far, far away. The shadow is mine now. It whispers to me. Tells me of the other world, where bodies intersect, and appearance is reality. Soon, I will be its puppet, instead of the other way around. And it will take me through the woods, into the darkness." Cosmic "To find the source of the town's horror, I turned my eyes skyward. Every star was in the wrong place. Every star was an eye looking back. Under their gaze, I feel the world begin to unravel in earnest. Tentatively, almost curiously, they have stripped normalcy from this place, and allowed horrors to walk free. Vast metal structures simply appeared, thrusting through buildings and people alike. A ship. Buried beneath the town long ago, now waking up. They creep from below on spindly, six-jointed legs, watching through smoking visors. Now, they take more fundamental things from us. With a flick of multi-jointed wrists, they strip people of cohesion, and watch them collapse into piles of gore. They stamp down gravity, and pull things into the heavens. I don't know what to call them. Aliens? That seems too tame. This is not an invasion. It's a game that children have tired of playing. In boredom, they are disregarding the rules, and throwing the board aside. Their ship rises from the earth, and leaves a gash a mile-wide and fathoms deep. As it flies into the distance, it rains maddening light on the world below. Casual ruin, on all of humankind." Science "I've only just arrived here, and already I can tell that something is wrong. A pallor hangs over everything, yet no one acknowledges it. Like everyone in this damned world, they go about their lives in ignorance. I am the only one left to seek out the truth. I'm forced to pry the intel out of them, fight for what little they offer me, each piece is vital. Animals going mad, dead loved ones, seen out of the corner of your eye, even the cremated. I know that I'm close to what I'm looking for. There has to be a scientific explanation behind these phenomena." Zombies "It's gotten too prevalent to ignore, now. 'Zombies' are walking the streets, and the townsfolk have driven themselves into a hysteria. The local authorities are baffled, and no attempts to reach outside help have succeeded. 'Interference', they say. Why do they not try to understand? Ignorance is death. Humanity survived its infancy because it strode boldly into the unknown, a torch in hand. I have seen records that these 'zombies' are apparently deceased family members, and clear signs of necrotizing on their bodies. Though conventional science says it is impossible, they have no heartbeat, and ignore otherwise fatal wounds. There must be a reason for this unnatural resurrection." Horror of the beyond "No one listened. The dead were saying something, trying to say something, but no one bothered to stop and listen. I have one tied up in a cellar here, while the rest have started to overrun the town, and past its borders. I leaned close, carefully, as it whispered. They don't want to hurt us, but they have no choice. To kill, to send others to that place is the only way to avoid returning to it. The afterlife, the great beyond, is a hungry thing. A cloying, suffocating horror that the zombie could describe only as 'the squeeze'. The zombie could explain no further without collapsing into foul smelling tears. It begged me to release it. It begged me to die. Before it returned to a place so horrible that even decent people would sell the whole world, just for an hour longer outside of it. I watched as it turned inside out and vanished. As it returned to the place we are all doomed to go." Virus "Everyone's already infected. I gathered pieces of the creatures infesting the town- some human in shape, some not, some bizarre. I expected to find some kind of virus, that had reanimated the bodies somehow, in new shapes. I took them to a lab, abandoned in the onslaught, and found the lead researcher and his team joined as one. They were dead, but still moved. The virus used their flesh as its own, spreading mindlessly further. Like human fungus. It did not attack me, but it watched with many dead eyes, with the quiet tenacity of something that has already won. I read the assembled notes, and discovered that it had. DNA samples, from the zombies, from the dogs, from the things no longer recognizable. Samples of the virus. It was all the same. All of them had a near exact match for human gene, with a single sequence of junk DNA flipped. The change spreads like an airborne prion, infecting all it touches- or, more accurately, awakening what was already there. Even now, the bodies gather, moving on pseudopods. Coming together, in the town square. Soon, I will join them, watching with many eyes as the world ends. All of human history, reduced to a contagion. And all that had to happen was the flip of a switch." Dreamer "To think that the end came from something so insignificant. When I was checking the town records, looking for notable deaths, I happened upon the case of a little boy. He was playing in the woods with his friends. He swung from a branch, and it snapped. He hit his head on something, and fell into a coma. None of the other children saw what had hit him. He was a vegetable, swiftly diagnosed with brain death. But his parents still wanted to keep his shell of a body alive. The next morning, when they checked his hospital bed, he was gone. The window was open. Lost, assumed dead after a search party failed to find him. He was lost, but he was not dead. He was sleepwalking, dreaming all the while. Fevered visions, recursive insanity, that crept out through his mind to ensnare the world. The 'zombies' are sleepwalkers, caught in his all-powerful dream. The lucky ones are the mindless, the ones so twisted that they no longer remember what they used to be. The ones that are just figments of his imagination now. The earth ripples. Reality unwinds. He's becoming lucid. A child god, a nascent psychic with no limit to his abilities, and only a dead brain's imagination to shape them." Parasite "Perhaps there is a reason why some remain in ignorance. If knowledge is a torch's flame, perhaps that flame should not be taken into the depths of the cave, where the bear lies. Someone in this town had an idea. It didn't belong to them. They were an explorer of sorts, searching through the crawlspaces and abandoned homes of the town. In the oldest cellar, they stepped into the wrongest place in the universe, the aperture of some forgotten door, and the idea stole into their mind. It gnawed on them, a thought without description, and they could not forget. Before it could take them, they put a bullet through their head. They had already written it down. Extensive journals, made in an attempt to bind the idea into writing. They misunderstood its nature. The words were simply another vector. That is where the 'zombies' came from. They learned the idea, the predatory thought that fed on their minds, and left them feral and degraded and gibbering infectious words. If you're reading this, then I'm sorry. This book must contain the same vector. It's in you, now." Hunter Comming soon Husband Comming soon